Interlude in Rivendell
by beruthielswhitecat
Summary: Intimacy grows as Frodo recovers in the Last Homely House - Slash


Title: Interlude in Rivendell 

Author: Beruthiel 

E mail: 

Pairing: Frodo/Sam 

Summary: Intimacy grows as Frodo recovers in the Last Homely House 

Rating: R for slash 

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There was a soft rap at the bedroom door and a familiar figure appeared, peering shyly around the corner. 

"Sam! I knew you'd be close by," said Frodo. "Come on in." 

Sam returned a crooked grin and ran into the room. "It's wonderful to see you, sir! I was so worried; well, we all were, of course. And here you are now, all awake and alert. What a change!" He sat on the edge of the bed and on impulse took Frodo's hand in his, stroking it briefly. "It's warm now," he said with relief. "All the time you had that cursed wound it was cold and clammy."

"Yes, I'm really a lot better," Frodo said, patting Sam's hand in return. "I was worried about you and the others until Gandalf told me you were all fine. How good it is to see you!" 

Sam looked down at their clasped hands, looking pleased. 

"Come on, tell me what's been happening here," said Frodo. "Gandalf has really only given me a sketchy outline of what happened after I fell off Glorfindel's horse. How did you manage with your poor burden and what have you been doing all this while?" 

"We managed all right," Sam said. He didn't want to elaborate further, recalling the frantic race to the elf haven, but Frodo was looking at him, eagerly awaiting a story. "There's not much to tell," Sam said, matter-of-factly. "The elves took charge of you as soon as we arrived here. They stripped and bathed you, cleaned the wound, placed you here. Then Lord Elrond came into the chamber and took over." Sam paused, remembering how the Elf Lord's presence dominated the room and how he had hidden himself in the darkening shadows to avoid scrutiny. He had been both afraid and in awe of Elrond, aware that this was someone who would brook no disobedience or insolence. He continued briefly. "Lord Glorfindel and Gandalf came to offer their counsel from time to time, the Elves chanted some songs or spells over you and Elrond directed your treatment. They gave us rooms of our own, but I wanted to stay close to you. But I could hardly see you in the middle of this huge bed; it's far too big for mere Hobbits and there were a lot of elves fussing around you and gliding around the room. They let me stay in the corner there, as long as I didn't get in the way. That's all there is." 

Frodo looked at him in amazement. "But Gandalf said I was unconscious for three days. And you kept vigil for all that time?" 

Sam nodded. "Mostly," he said. "But I ran errands sometimes too, Mr Frodo." 

"They let you stay! My goodness, why didn't they make you go and rest." 

"Gandalf tried to make me go to my room, Mr Frodo and Lord Elrond gave me a good talking too about the value of staying as there didn't seem to be nothing for me to do at first. But they had to give in at the end," Sam said, with a hint of satisfaction. "I had a blanket to keep warm in and Mr Merry bought me some food, so I was all right. I told them I wasn't leaving you alone for nothing." 

"Alone? With all that attention I was hardly alone, Sam." 

"That's what Lord Elrond said," replied Sam. "I told him that when you woke up you'd need to see a familiar face, someone you knew who could reassure you. It's a dreadful thing to wake up out of a nightmare alone and afraid, isn't it? So I said I wasn't leaving you for nowt and there wasn't anything he could do about it."

Frodo looked at Sam, impressed. "You mean to tell me you argued with Lord Elrond and won! I can hardly believe it. That took a lot of courage." 

Sam shook his head slowly. "I'm not brave, Mr Frodo, not at all," he whispered. "In fact, I was as scared as I'd ever been in my life."

"Sam, you look very pale to me," said Frodo suddenly. "You must be exhausted. Are you feeling all right?" 

"Yes, I'm fine," replied Sam staunchly. But then he hesitated and concern was etched in his normally placid features. "It's just that....I'm so relieved you're better. I was so worried, Mr Frodo. You were suffering so much and for a moment I didn't think..." Sam's voice quavered slightly and then trailed off into silence. Frodo looked at him questioningly and Sam cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, I didn't think you'd make it," he said unhappily. "At one point even Lord Elrond seemed to despair and I thought you were going to lose the fight."

Frodo closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, unwilling to remember the pain and torment which had engulfed him, or that he had almost considered himself lost to darkness forever. But he gave a little smile and squeezed Sam's hand reassuringly. "But I'm all right now," he said lightly. "Fit enough to attend some sort of meeting tomorrow, or so Gandalf says. So you see, I'll be as good as new, I promise."

Sam, however, was not easily placated. "But you don't understand! I thought you were going to die," he cried. "You weren't getting any better - even I could see that from my corner, and after three days there hadn't been a change. They soaked you in athelas but you were still tossing and turning with fever and crying out in pain. If you died....I couldn't manage that! What would I do without you?" Sam's features tightened, then he pitched forward with a strangled sob and buried his face in the elaborate covers of the huge bed. His frame began to shake as the pressure of the last few days manifested itself in a flood of tears.

Frodo managed to raise himself to a sitting position and looked at Sam in alarm. His words of reassurance were unheard by the distressed Hobbit and Frodo was quite at a loss as what to do to console him. After a moment he leant forward and put his arms around Sam's heaving shoulders to pull him up onto the covers next to himself. But in his weakened state Sam's weight was heavier than he could bear and after a few moments he sank back onto his pillow with a weeping Sam locked firmly in his embrace. Sam continued to cry, oblivious to all else. It was all Frodo could do to murmur his companion's name and pat his back, deeply touched by Sam's display of vulnerability. After a while Sam quietened, but he did not stir and lay heavy and solid in Frodo's embrace. 

At length Sam managed to compose himself. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to disturb you like that," he sniffed.

"Nothing to be sorry for," said Frodo gently. "I know you've been through so much and you must be overwrought after sitting up so many long nights." His fingers stroked the distraught Hobbit's thick hair. "My poor, brave Samwise. You look after me, but who looks after you?" he said, half to himself. "Where would I be without my Sam? I simply can't imagine." 

Sam stirred and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, what was that, sir?"

"Nothing, Sam," said Frodo.

More alert and somewhat embarrassed by his display, Sam tried to sit up in the tangle of Frodo's bed covers and hastily drew his sleeve across his face. "Then I'll leave you be, sir. Lord Elrond said you need your rest and you don't need me here making any more scenes." He started to rise, but Frodo stretched out his hand to Sam.

"You don't have to go, do you?" he asked quickly. "Perhaps you could stay here a while?" 

"If that's what you want, sir," said Sam. "But I don't want to make no trouble." 

"No trouble, Sam. I need company, I need someone close." Frodo patted the spot Sam had lain on, adding by way of explanation, "A familiar face, as you said." 

Sam gave him a look of gratitude. Frodo pulled at Sam's sleeve to ease him back down on to the bed and directed Sam's head onto his uninjured shoulder. Sam lay next to him, at first awkward and stiff until Frodo curved his arms around Sam's broad back to gently cradle him. Then Sam sighed in relief and contentment and they settled together in peaceful silence. 

The impropriety of having a grown Hobbit curled next to him like a babe didn't seem to matter to Frodo at that moment. But he knew Sam was a child no longer. He had developed into a strapping lad over the years, much admired for his pleasing features and strong shoulders as for his gentle nature. Frodo had seen Sam grow up beneath his very nose, first as a small lad trailing his father around the gardens of Bag End, then as Bilbo's enthusiastic pupil, eager to learn and listen to stories about far off places, till he finally came of age and took over as head gardener. He was grown up now, but he still retained a childlike wonder at sights they had encountered, whether it was being in the company of Elves or finding a new flower to marvel at. He still wore his heart on his sleeve, unable to hide his emotions when they mastered him, and that endeared him to folk even more. 

Sam felt reassuringly close to him, something tangible to hold on to, real and solid. More importantly his presence rooted Frodo firmly back in the present, dispelling the dark and distressing memories of his injury. He stroked Sam's curls, more to soothe himself than to ease Sam, but was pleased when he heard Sam exhale contentedly. Sam was a loving and comforting presence, which reminded Frodo of the Shire and all that was good about life. He lifted a lock of Sam's hair, suddenly struck by the variety of colours which curled over his finger. Some strands were the colour of wheat ripening in the fields, some were yellow like the daisies which sparkled around Hobbiton lanes and some were the colour of sand along the Brandywine. Frodo smiled to himself. Trust Sam to remind him of home. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yammer on like that," Sam whispered to him after a moment.

"It's all right to let it out," soothed Frodo. "You cry all you want, it doesn't matter." 

"I'm done with tears," Sam responded dreamily. "It's just that it's such a relief to see you looking like your old self. I don't want to upset you no more." 

"You could never upset me," said Frodo. His fingers ran over Sam's hair, his exposed ear and the side of his cheek in absent wispy strokes. He suddenly recalled their sleeping arrangements on the trip from Hobbiton. Initially Sam had laid out their bedrolls far apart as decorum dictated. Then, the further they travelled from home, they found they were sleeping closer together on the ground. By unspoken consent, they were happy to lie close enough to touch if one of them had reached out. He heard Sam sigh again and felt him pressing nearer, obviously comfortable with their closeness. He wondered what it would have felt like to sleep with Sam like this every night, but both under the same covers. On impulse he pressed a tender kiss on Sam's brow. 

Startled, Sam looked up at him, eyes questioning such an unexpected gesture from his master. Frodo smiled at him reassuringly, and was rewarded with a flicker of delight dancing quickly across Sam's features. He smiled back shyly, as if he knew this was a secret moment they shared. Encouraged, Frodo realized if he tilted his head just a little he could be able to kiss Sam's cheek. 

But he didn't have time to act. There was a light noise, perhaps a rustle of silk or a slight foot fall at the room's entrance. Sam shot up like an arrow out of the bow as Elrond appeared in the doorway. The Elf Lord courteously greeted the Hobbits and if he had seen anything he considered out of the ordinary it was not reflected in his impassive features. Sam, however, stood beside the bed and bowed very low so the blush on his cheeks was not visible. Frodo sat up to return Elrond's greeting.

"I see you are improving; that is good news indeed," said Elrond. He turned to Sam. "I came to discuss some matters with the Ringbearer. Perhaps you are needed elsewhere, Master Gamgee?" 

"Oh, yes, I suppose I am," stammered Sam. He turned to Frodo. "I'll be taking my leave, Mr Frodo. If you need anything, just let me know." With that Sam rushed past Elrond and disappeared into the gardens. 

Following the Council Frodo and Sam were rarely apart and the Hobbits enjoyed the quiet, lazy days that followed. Once the decision regarding the Ring had been made Frodo felt more relaxed and peaceful, secure in the knowledge that Rivendell was unassailable and that he was safe at last. Sam added a great measure to his security, being constantly at his side to tend to anything he required. Frodo reassured him that he was no longer an invalid and that they should simply enjoy what the Elf haven had to offer and let the future attend to itself. 

During the days they could be seen strolling together through the corridors and terraces, carefree and laughing. Other times they were found sitting outside, Frodo reading aloud, Sam just listening to him over his pipe, quiet and reflective. In the evenings they caught up with the other Hobbits to exchange news and stories and attended Elrond's banquets, enjoying the singing and the plentiful food. Their closeness and pleasure in each other's company grew steadily as did Frodo's strength. Each time his progress was commented on Frodo would attribute his well being to Sam's constant care and attention, which in turn caused Sam to go red with embarrassment. But there was also a look of pride in Sam's eyes as he measured Frodo's progress. In turn, Lord Elrond watched both Hobbits with interest. 

"It's so peaceful here," Frodo murmured as they wandered between the marble columns one afternoon. "Days merge into each other and the light always seems golden and clear. Now I understand why Bilbo yearned to come here. It must be good for the soul." He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder where Sam was a few feet behind him. "Sam, what are you doing back there? Are you hogging the picnic basket for yourself?"

"Of course not!" replied Sam indignantly. He was looking up at the sky. "I was just thinking there might be showers. There's a few clouds about." 

"Are there? I hadn't noticed," responded Frodo. "Come and walk with me." He stretched out his hand, and then slipped his arm over Sam's so they could walk arm in arm. They had been doing this on many occasions and Sam was more than appreciative of the gesture. Before Rivendell he had always walked a step or two behind Frodo, never with him. It was simply his natural place and he had never thought to question it. Now he delighted in the recent informality and fondness of Frodo's manner towards him. And there were other almost imperceptible changes between them, but Sam had dared not dwell on them or try to fathom what they meant, if anything. He reminded himself that the well being of his master was his main priority and he had no business being concerned with any thing else. But when he felt the light pressure of Frodo's arm as a tingle on his skin he drew his breath in sharply, feeling slightly giddy. The possibility of inclement weather was quickly forgotten. 

After several minutes they detoured from the paved pathway to a smaller grassed one which eventually opened out into a large glade surrounded by rowan trees, laden with coppery red clusters of berries and crowned with golden foliage.

"This must be the place Merry told us about," Frodo said, looking around with satisfaction. 

Sam nodded. "Yes, I'm sure it is. It's a very pretty spot," he said, flourishing the picnic blanket in the air. It settled on the grass in the middle of the clearing and then Sam arranged the contents of the basket on it. "Hope you're hungry, sir. I made lots of your favourites, cheese pie, caraway cake, egg tarts, but I couldn't get the right sort of mushrooms, I'm afraid." 

"No matter," Frodo said, laughing at Sam's serious tone. "I'm just glad they let you have full run in the kitchens," he said picking up the closest plate. 

"I thought I was going to have to push hard for that, but when I said it would help your recovery if you had some home style food, they couldn't say no." 

"I'm in your debt for that, Sam. For as much as I've enjoyed the elves' hospitality, I have missed your cooking." 

Sam nodded, as he cut the pie into large wedges. "I have to agree, if I can make so bold. I mean, they do prepare some amazing dishes, but I can't help wondering if they spend too much time arranging it on the platters and making it look pretty with flowers and garnishes. Not enough substance sometimes. And did you see the looks we all got at the first banquet! They hadn't seen hungry Hobbits at the table before, I imagine." 

As they ate the Hobbits alternated between chatting away between mouthfuls and lapsing into companionable silence. Finally Frodo admitted he couldn't manage another bite. He raised his arms above his head and stretched lazily. 

"Tired, Mr Frodo?" queried Sam. 

"A little, but in a pleasant and relaxed way." 

"You can rest against me," Sam offered. 

"Good idea." Frodo bundled up his jacket and put it behind his head as a pillow, and lay his head in Sam's lap. Sam looked down at Frodo as he made himself comfortable. For an instant he thought he saw an inky haired elf reclining under him. Sam found himself admiring the luminescent smoothness of Frodo's skin, the long sweep of his dark eyebrows and the unusual sharpness of his features. His body was lean and straight limbed like the graceful elves with little of the usual Hobbit roundness. Only his wavy hair and hairy feet indicated his kind. No wonder he looked as much a part of Rivendell as the beautiful statues, tall pillars and elegant architecture. He wondered if Frodo would even look at ease in elven robes. 

"All right, Sam?" 

"Yes," Sam said, quickly shaking off his reverie. "But we haven't finished all the food." 

"We can't have that. What would the elves think?" said Frodo. "Better pass me a strawberry, please." 

Sam reached over to pick the biggest strawberry from the basket. On impulse he held it a few inches above Frodo's mouth and shook it to and fro. 

Frodo smiled up at him. "Are you teasing me, Sam?" 

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking." Quickly he let go off the berry and it dropped directly into Frodo's open mouth. Frodo laughed and munched away on the fruit, amused with Sam's flustered face. "Another please," he ordered. "As I'm an invalid, you'd better keep feeding me this way." 

"You said you weren't ill anymore," Sam pointed out, but he had the next strawberry ready in his fingers. 

"But I'm still recuperating," said Frodo. "Besides, it's nice to be pampered and so well looked after." 

"Well, it's my job to look after you, isn't it?" said Sam. 

"Job?" chided Frodo. "I'm just a job, am I?" 

"No, I didn't mean that!" Sam protested. "I made a promise to look after you and that's what I try to do. Well, what I mean is, I like to look after you." 

"I know you do, Sam - and I'm glad of that," replied Frodo softly, almost wistfully. Sam felt his heart flutter, but he found no reply. He simply nodded. 

"It's very odd here, isn't it, Sam?" continued Frodo. "I feel relaxed and without a care, even though I know we'll be leaving on a dangerous journey soon. Strangely enough that thought doesn't make me feel anxious or afraid." 

"Well, you should be just a little, sir; it's a big undertaking you've got yourself into," said Sam, solemnly. 

"Ah, but I've got you with me, haven't I, Sam?" Frodo said. "My protector, Samwise. That thought alone keeps me steady." 

"You'll have others to look out for you," Sam pointed out. "At least that's what Lord Elrond said at the Council." 

"True," said Frodo. Then he stretched up one hand and tapped Sam in the middle of his chest. "But there's only one Samwise," he said. He stopped and frowned at himself, suddenly feeling a little perplexed. He paused, then looked back at Sam. "You know, I think there must be something in the air or the water or in this golden light. It seems to make me see things differently." 

That was just what Sam had been thinking but he was curious to see exactly what his master was referring to. 

"Things, Mr Frodo? What kind of things?" he asked. 

"Just things. Everything and nothing," answered Frodo. Aware of Sam's inquisitive gaze he considered further. "Well, like you, for instance, Sam." 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you." Frodo drew a breath, gathering his thoughts. "I seem to be seeing you in a whole new light," he said. "I've learned so much about you on this trip - not just that you've learnt a lot of poetry and that you love the Elves and their lore. I mean about how resourceful and practical you are, how determined you are to see things through, about how much you give of yourself to others." 

"It's right good of you to say such things," Sam said modestly. "But we've known each a long time. You must know what I'm like by now." 

"Well, yes - and no," replied Frodo. "Of course we go back a long way. You were always at Bag End, becoming as much a part of it as either Bilbo or myself." He paused again. "But because you were such a fixture I think I took you for granted, just assuming you were always there to do things for Bilbo and I. I've always assumed you would be there to help out. But you've helped me in so many ways, Sam. You've done so much for me on this journey." 

"But I haven't done anything special," said Sam. "Like I said, I'm here to look after you." 

Frodo's features became serious. "I don't suppose you anticipated looking after me with a stab wound from a Ringwraith," he said in a quiet voice. 

"I didn't really know what to expect on this trip. Ignorance is bliss as my Gaffer says." 

"Is it?" Frodo sat up abruptly and tucked his knees under his chin. "Did Elrond tell you what would have happened to me if...if..." 

Sam nodded solemnly. "Yes, he did, sir." 

"What did he tell you, Sam?" 

"He told me the likely reason you weren't recovering was that there was still be a shard of the blade embedded in your shoulder. He said it would make it's way through your body directly to the heart." Sam swallowed at the memory and looked away. "He said if that happened...well, it would mean the end of you, Master. You'd no longer be as I knew you, but you would be part of the Shadow world as one of those hideous wraiths." 

Frodo shuddered. "Yes, that could have happened," he said. "But you helped prevent that, didn't you Sam?"

"I didn't do nothing, sir."

"That's not so," said Frodo. He placed a finger under Sam's chin and lifted his face so he could look directly into Sam's eyes. "As usual your modesty has prevented you from mentioning something very important to me. But now I know what you did for me while I was lying wounded. I know you assisted Elrond with getting that shard out of my shoulder, how you passed him the knives when he needed them. It must have been an unpleasant and messy business. Sam, you are so very brave." 

"No, I told you before I'm not!" exclaimed Sam suddenly. Frodo's eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected vehemence. "He asked me if I wanted to help," Sam said, more quietly. "Well, of course I did, so I said I'd do anything! I thought he was going to do some spell or some elvish magic which would dissolve the shard." Sam shuddered at the recollection of Elrond showing him a great carved wooden box full of glittering blades and looked unhappily back to Frodo. "I didn't know he was going to have such a practical approach. I did what he asked, but I practically fainted dead away before he was through. So, please don't go thinking I'm brave, Frodo. I'm not." 

"No, I don't believe that," said Frodo firmly. "Of all the people here, elves, wizards, men - it was you he asked, Sam. He could have asked anyone in Rivendell to assist him, but he asked you, didn't he? And now I know why." He moved closer to Sam and put his arm around his shoulders. "You see, Elrond told me something else about you." 

"Oh, what?" 

"That you said you would give anything to see me well, even if you had to offer up your own life to save me." Frodo's voice quavered a little and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "That's well over the call of duty, even for a dear friend. To offer a sacrifice like that is the bravest thing I've ever heard. Sam, I just wanted to thank you for that." 

Sam remained stock still, but his mind racing, trying to find words. "It was nothing, Mr Frodo," he was all he could say. 

"Nothing?" repeated Frodo in suprise. "I don't understand that. How can that mean nothing?" Then his hand slipped off Sam's shoulder and fell back into his lap. "Oh, I see," he said quietly. "You only meant it as a figure of speech, of course. Well, it's easy to say such things in times of stress. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you, Sam. Forget I mentioned it." He assumed a business like manner. "Now, let's get these plates packed up and we can make tracks." 

"No, forget the plates!" Sam cried with sudden urgency. "I'm not embarrassed and I meant what I said, Mr Frodo!" he exclaimed, eyes shining. "I really meant it! I'd do anything for you and there's no shame is saying so." 

Frodo let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, that's the most wonderful, beautiful thing I've ever heard," he said. "It means so much to me, Sam, because, well, you mean so much to me." He turned to Sam, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. "What I'm trying to say is I feel so much closer to you now. It's as if there's a bond between us and it's growing, drawing us closer together." 

"Do you mean that?" Sam asked quickly. 

"Yes, of course, my dear Sam." 

"But is it this place that makes you say such things? You're not saying things you don't mean because you're simply feeling grateful or that this strange place is having an effect on you?" 

Frodo took Sam's hand between his own, pressing it gently. "No, it's not just this place," he said smiling. "All Rivendell has done is to make sense of things. Suddenly all the pieces seem to have a pattern, to have purpose. I know how I feel." 

Sam hesitated. "How do you feel?" he asked cautiously. 

Frodo didn't answer at once, seemingly weighing his words. Suddenly there was a crinkle in the air and several large drops of rain landed between them. Both Hobbits looked up in surprise at the sudden intrusion and they sat still for several seconds as the shower quickly soaked their head and shoulders. Then Frodo looked back at Sam and suddenly began to laugh. "How do I feel? I feel wet, Sam! I'm soaking wet!" he shouted. He jumped up and was racing for the cover of the trees, leaving a flurry of red and gold leaves in his wake. "Bet you can't catch me!" he called back over his shoulder. 

Sam stared at him astonished, then he laughed aloud at the silliness of the scene. "Bet I can!" he replied, following slowly to allow Frodo to get ahead. Frodo darted behind a rowan trunk as if to hide. Sam ran around the other side of the tree but Frodo gave a ridiculous shriek and fled behind the adjacent tree, nearly tripping over a giant snake like root. He scooped up a handful of leaf litter and flung it at Sam, who quickly stepped to one side. He ran towards Frodo and managed to grab him by the braces, but Frodo twisted and turned and managed to slip out of his hold. Sam stood still, hands on hips, looking at Frodo in mock despair. 

"Give up?" Frodo asked, eyes twinkling. 

Sam shook his head. "Never." He gave chase again and they zig zagged back and forth in a mad dance until Sam's arm finally swung around to catch him. They both collapsed against the nearest tree, laughing inanely. 

"Got you," Sam cried in triumph. Frodo made an attempt to break free, squirming in Sam's hold, but Sam held tight. "You're not getting way now!" he warned. 

Defeated, Frodo leant back against the trunk to catch his breath. Droplets of rain glistened on his face, hair and shoulders, like miniature pearls and his cheeks were slightly ruddy from the exertion. Sam's arm remained firmly around his waist and they stayed still for several moments, simply looking at each other. The only sound was the gentle patter of rain cascading through the canopy. Frodo's hand dropped to rest on Sam's sleeve. His fingers ran up and down the fabric. Sam looked down at the hand with it's long thin fingers and bitten nails then up to Frodo's face, as if to make sure the hand really belonged to the owner. 

"You caught me fair and square," said Frodo softly. "So, what are you going to do to me now?" 

"Do?" echoed Sam. He felt confused, as if he knew the answer, but it couldn't possibly be the right one. "What do you want me to do?" he asked. 

"Whatever you want," answered Frodo. 

Sam moved a little closer, eyes glinting. "Why, I think I'm going to... " Then he took a deep breath and dropped his grip, shaking his head. "No, I shouldn't," he said. 

"Maybe you should," Frodo responded, a little breathlessly. His hand went to Sam's face to brush away a drop of rain which had filtered through the foliage. 

Sam accepted the invitation. He pressed Frodo's hand to his cheek, then leant in close until his mouth lightly brushed against Frodo's. Then, tentatively he drew the full lower lip between his own, pulling on it in a gentle kiss. 

"There, that's what I wanted to do," Sam said in a quiet voice as he broke the embrace. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted me to." 

"I wasn't sure at first," said Frodo, voice equally low. "But now I know my own heart. Since we've been here I've learnt so much about my feelings about you. You're a marvel, Sam, a tower of strength. Where does that strength come from, Sam?"

"I just suppose it's there and you draw on it when you need to."

"But it has a source, doesn't it? A river starts from a raindrop, an oak grows from an acorn. Your strength has grown from your love, hasn't it?" asked Frodo. "Do you love me, Sam?" 

Sam felt dazed, but the words tumbled from him. "I've never felt like this before, Mr Frodo. I feel like I'm walking on clouds when I'm with you. I feel weepy and anxious when I'm not. All the other times I just think about how to make you happy. And I think you're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, more wondrous than the fairest of the Fair Folk. So if I'm not in love there's something very wrong with me, isn't there?" 

"Does that mean yes, Sam?" whispered Frodo, pressing close to him. 

"Yes, I love you more than anything in this world!" cried Sam. "Let me love you, please." 

No further permission was needed or given. They fell towards each other, pushing their mouths together to nibble and caress each others lips, as if finding a unfamiliar but intoxicating fruit to taste. Frodo ran his tongue over Sam's lips, then ventured to the inside of his mouth where he found the tip of Sam's tongue waiting impatiently for his touch. Frodo flickered his tongue cautiously against the other's and Sam responded in the same manner. Frodo moaned a little in the back of his throat, aware he was being tickled, but did not break the kiss. He swung his arms around Sam's neck and flung himself at him, causing them both to fall against the rowan trunk with a thud. 

Sam steadied Frodo, resting his hands against his neck, feeling Frodo's quickening pulse jumping against his palms. He slid his tongue further between Frodo's teeth into the slick softness of his mouth. Frodo's tongue sought Sam's, pressing, swirling, teasing. Mouths moved against each other, hungrily and noisily now, leaving their faces wet where kisses had moved to cheeks, eyelids, and ear lobes. Frodo felt like he had crossed a desert and just found a verdant oasis to lie in and cool water to slake his thirst. The sensation threatened to overwhelmed him and he sagged a little at the knees. Sensing this, Sam's firm arms gathered around his waist, pulling Frodo even closer to him. Leaning against Sam's chest for support Frodo savoured the sensation of the length of their bodies pressed together, chest to chest, hip to hip. He could feel the quick rise and fall of Sam's chest, his hot breath on his neck, the roundness of his belly against him and then he felt Sam's cock pushed up against him. 

The knowledge that he had made Sam hard with his awkward kisses added sudden fervour to Frodo. He whimpered as the need to touch bare skin overtook him. His hands flew to Sam's braces, pulling them from his shoulders in one quick move, then he plucked at Sam's shirt, quickly releasing it from his waistband. Eager fingers slipped beneath the material and ran over Sam, pausing occasionally to grasp at soft flesh at his sides and caress the curve of hard muscle on his back. As Frodo explored the contours and sensation of warm skin, Sam was tugging at Frodo's shirt, fiddling clumsily with the buttons until he bared Frodo's chest. The white linen shirt slipped down his arms, then fluttered like a flag of surrender around Frodo's waist. 

Sam's mouth moved to his throat, licking the sensitive pale skin, then slid over the curve of his shoulder in little sucking motions. Then he saw the Ring glinting against Frodo's skin and hesitated. Frodo's hand quickly covered it and pulled it so the chain and it's burden hung behind him, out of view. Sam sighed and his lips settled on the small white scar which was now the only visible sign of Frodo's wound. He caressed it tenderly, then kissed it, as if to remove any lingering trace of poison. Frodo squirmed anxiously, expecting to re-experience the thrust of cold hard metal in his flesh. But instead Sam's kiss radiated warmth into the core of his being and he gasped aloud at the intensity of the feeling. Rain splashed on his upturned face, but he did not heed it. 

Sam began to trail kisses from Frodo's shoulder, down the centre of the narrow chest to his navel. Then Sam was kneeling before him, arms around Frodo's waist. He pressed his face against Frodo's throbbing groin, then spread his outstretched hand against the front of his breeches. 

Frodo, completely undone, groaned at the touch. All shyness dissolved in a pool of desire, the need to touch and be touched mastered him at last. His hands flew to his own breeches to fumble with his buttons, but his fingers were not steady. With an equal sense of urgency Sam was suddenly standing in front of him, pulling at Frodo's waistband, opening his breeches and tugging at the drawstring that held up his linen drawers. 

Sam kissed Frodo's begging mouth again, all the while pushing Frodo's garments half down his thighs. In his turn Frodo reached down to unbutton Sam's trousers and loosen the waistband, but Sam was impatient. He clasped Frodo's hardness with one hand and with the other pushed his back up against the rowan tree. The rough bark bit Frodo's bare shoulders and buttocks, but he felt nothing else but the fire in his flesh and urgently pressed himself into Sam's hand. Then Sam was stroking him with firm, rapid movements and he was crying aloud at the tightness of the encircling fingers. He reached down between them, feeling for Sam's cock and grasped the hot shaft, marvelling at the silky hardness of it. Sam stifled a loud groan of appreciation. Leaning against the tree, they moved together in a jagged rhythm, the only sounds their hoarse breathing and the far off sound of raining falling. Frodo heard his voice calling Sam's name, over and over like a litany as the heat built up until finally he heard his own exhilarated cry as he came. Then Sam shuddered in his embrace and covered Frodo's hand with a sticky flood of his own. 

They stood still by the rowan, clasped together. Frodo's head fell forward against Sam's shoulder, his breathing still loud and erratic. Sam rocked him in his arms for a moment as the last of the rain fell. The air smelled fresh and crisp and the grass glistened wetly. Over Sam's shoulder Frodo could see the sky lightening as the clouds lazily dispersed. After a moment he slowly disengaged himself from their embrace and leant back against the tree trunk, suddenly aware of the state of disarray his clothes were in and the wetness around his thighs and belly. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, pulling his clothes around him and drew his knees up under his chin. 

Sam knelt beside him, concerned. "Frodo, are you all right?" he asked. 

"I need a moment to get my bearings." Frodo whispered, as if to himself. "I feel a little - dazed, if that's the word. I can't believe we just did that. I mean, I've never done such a thing before, ever." 

"No, me neither," added Sam, sitting down next to him. "I feel a bit light headed too, like I'd had too much ale or something." 

Frodo tilted his head back and sighed. His eyes flickered then shut tight. Sam looked at him and his expression became anxious. "Did we go too far?" he asked worriedly. "Was it a mistake?" 

"Mistake?" 

"If it was, I'm sorry, Mr Frodo," Sam said. He began to pull his clothes into place and quickly buttoned his shirt, avoiding Frodo's eyes. "I didn't know it was going to happen. I couldn't help myself, I got swept up with the moment. I'm sorry, really, I am." 

"Sam, you misunderstand," said Frodo quickly. He clasped Sam's hand and pressed it to his lips. "This wasn't a mistake so don't you go thinking so. I might not have done this before, but I wanted you to touch me like that. There's no need to be upset, is there?" 

"Well, no, I don't think so," Sam replied. Then he looked sheepishly at Frodo. "I doubt I could have made myself stop, even if you'd ordered me to." 

"Nor I, Sam," admitted Frodo. "I was overwhelmed by the intensity of it, too. I only meant that this would never have happened if we were still in the Shire." 

Sam smiled a little at that thought. "That's true," he said. "I would never have considered doing such a thing there. It's just not done, is it? Or at least it's not spoken of. But it didn't feel wrong to me." As if to prove it, Sam kissed Frodo's mouth gently and tenderly. Frodo hugged him back. 

"You're right, my love," Frodo said. "We're not in the Shire now. Besides, the Elves love whomever they choose to, so why can't we?" 

"Even though we're not Elves?" asked Sam lightly. 

"I don't think it matters, Sam," said Frodo. He found his feet and Sam helped him to rise, wiping leaves from Frodo's bare skin, and pulling his clothes back into place. "Being in Rivendell has made things clear to me. In the Shire there are conventions you can't escape - we have neighbours ready to point out any foibles you show and there are gossips ready to spread imaginary news." He flung out his arms exuberantly. "But here it's the opposite! It doesn't have the same constraints we have at home, does it? We are free to express ourselves in ways we wouldn't normally consider, to do things that wouldn't be allowed in the Shire. I simply love you and I think it's right to act on that love." 

"I think I'm grateful to the Elves for that," murmured Sam, leaning in to button Frodo's shirt for him. 

Frodo smiled. "I feel free, Sam - totally and wonderfully free! It's as if a veil has been lifted from my eyes for the first time I can recognize my own heart! Now I can see you properly in all your glory, Sam and you're wonderful. It makes my heart soar!" 

Sam looked at him, beaming. "If it meant coming all this way to Rivendell to hear that from you, it was well worth the trip," he said. 

"I'm glad you feel that way," said Frodo, taking Sam's hand. "And I'm glad you're with me, Sam." 

"Through thick and thin, as it were," replied Sam. "I'll never leave you, no matter where the journey takes us." 

End 


End file.
